


Luck & Unlock

by Al_D_Baran



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, In later chapters - Freeform, Intersex, Intersex!England, Other, Smut, USUK - Freeform, and that no one would stumble on it and frown, anyway, its not really anything--but i wanted to be sure, its random ocs, the non-con part isnt francis, yknow
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-22
Updated: 2014-04-22
Packaged: 2018-01-20 10:23:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1507064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Al_D_Baran/pseuds/Al_D_Baran
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The son of the witch is rumoured to be a monster--in reality, he is intersex. Pretended to be the fruit of a curse from stationed soldiers from another nation, when the war break out between two empires, Arthur must flee from his house. Picked up by a young farmer named Alfred, and having to hide who he is, there might be more than meets the eye here.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Luck & Unlock

**Author's Note:**

> I had such a huuuuuuuge scenario planned out for this with multiple ideas for what road that could be taken and then... I forgot as I was writing the summary. Haha. I suck dont I ? Anyway--yes this will probably be UsUk, yet, it will include Francis. And as we all know, it's probably gonna turn out to be pretty pro-France too, since I love this guy so much. I plan on doing something pretty vanilla aside from the obviously epic scenario ahead u wu

 

Arthur’s mother had always fiercely hid him. The woman was rumoured by the villagers to be witch, and that because of her affiliation with the dark, she had been cursed, leading to deformity on the body of her child. If only anyone knew they were right ! While it had only happened through bad luck, the “deformity” as he loved to call it, wasn’t something as bad as they said. While they would be talking about a third eye, a third arm or simply that he would be a melon head, this wasn’t nothing so evident—the poor teen was in fact, stricken with hermaphroditism. Yes, it could be seen right away that Arthur wasn’t the most large man. Or even with other standards, he was rather small and lean. At first view, he could be questioned to be a boy or a girl, but his features were more the ones of an androgynous boy than a girl. For a sheltered child like he was, he wasn’t even aware he was intersex. All he knew was himself and his mother, who he looked after. She was beautiful while he was… well, what he was, a clumsy caricature that didn’t really know of what kind of human was drawn on the paper. Sometimes he wished to have larger breasts like she did, and not to have to hide his own under layers of bandages; not like they would have been seen anyway. And other times he wondered why he had a penis and that there was another thing between his legs, behind it… But mother would never answer any questions he had.

One day, a war broke out. The country of Archadia against the Empire of Haren'dal, and the small, rural country of Viwandyr stuck between the fire of both, forced to take alliances. Archadia had always been a trading partner. It would lose the war. Stuck between Charybde and Scylla, they were doomed. Time were peaceful for a while. Soldiers went around the country. Reaching the remote, unnamed villaged the witch had chosen to stay to raise her son, they heard about a monster and a witch. If farmers and fishermen of the village had other things to do with their days than to care about an enchanteress who stayed in her home, and would nurse wounds and heal the sick with no other payment than to leave as soon as they were done, stationned men had nothing to do. In their towns and the capital, witchcraft that wasn't financed by the governmnent was punishable by death. Bored, and hearing only good things about her cleavage and face, and curious about the so-called monster, they waited. Two men recruited some. Only a handful of them were Archadian; those accepted to go, as the men of Viwandyr cared little about a witch, as most of them sympathized with the villagers of such a remote village, understanding they needed a doctor—or someone to act as such. Archadians descended from barbarians, and hated magic. The six men who accepted to come were eager.

Sunet came. It was the time now. Febrile, they waited outside, hearing the woman talk with what seemed to be a child. The brat was young; just a teen. If he was a boy, his voice wasn't very cracket yet; but for a girl, perhaps that was a deep voice. Breaking in with a crash, they had only a little bit of time to witness a small human—or humanoid—run toward another room. The woman seemed to be a born fighter, and watched them with a snarl. Compared to usally tanned and blond, exotic, ripped and strong workers of Viwandyr, she was a petite woman of Haren blood, and her fists balled as she saw them. The black-haired, dark-skinned men or Archadia. Magic was a thing of distance, and even as the light seeped from her palms, a soldier tackled her to the ground. Even pinned, she fought and screamed. In her tongues, evil tongues, she cursed them to have their first-borns die, their hair fall before Eros would rise again, and their nails and teeth to begone before the moon would meet their eyes. Unable to understand, they laughed, and ripped her clothes, exposing her. “Yer a poor girl, witch. We'll burn ye before your moon god comes to help you, cunt.” They had to be four to hold her, but they laughed. She never stopped fighting. It was a dishonour to a Haren to stop fighting before death would come.

Only the sounds came to him. Arthur had hid under the first thing he could find, hoping no one would see him under the bed, curled on himself as he hoped they would be gone. He wanted to fight, but Mother had told him not to… what could he do now ? Would they kill him if Mother couldn’t fight them ? He held his breath, his whole body shaking as he could hear screams that would haunt him, powerless as somewhere in his mind, he understood those blood-curling screams and death-threats would be his last memories of Mother. The Sun seemed to set slowly, the screams receding to sobs and nothing. The men were laughing. “Let's see how you fight when you're dead now, bitch.” They laughed again. Arthur whined, closing his eyes tighter.

“What about the monster ?”

“Does it have a cunt ? Then I don't care.”

“You're limiting yourself. A mouth's a mouth.”

One walked in his room. There was a foul smell, and Arthur closed his eyes, trying to keep himself from breathing. “So it’s just a kid, right ? Where do kids hide, Aimeric ?”

Another laughed. “Kids ? Closet. Under the bed. Under the blankets. Anywhere they fit. But… it’s a monster… same places right ?”

The man in the room scoffed, and opened the closet door with a strong kick. Arthur couldn’t help himself and yelped, feeing his pants become wet. The shame and embarassement from such a thing were nothing compared to the fear he felt when the man turned around, and threw the bed with a single hit, leaving him defenceless and out in the open. Petrified, the boy couldn’t do anything as he was pulled up. “This ain’t a monster ! It’s a lil’ girl ! And she’s all wet !” Wet ? A girl ? Arthur wasn’t a girl, and stayed unmoving in front of the fat, gigantic man as the held his wrist tightly, and suddenly pulled him against his foul-smelling, sweat-covered chest, and snaked one hand into his shirt to fondle him, pulling the bandages away with a scoff. “What’re ye hidin’ there ? Cute little breasts, uh ? Don't hide from me, c' mon, you lil' bawd !” The hands were rough, hard and disgusting, and Arthur realized this was /bad/. Mother had always said to never trust anyone. Men were bad. Men would hurt him. They would all hurt him.

Panic rising, he cried out, fisting his hands to lunge over the hand, clawing at it as strongly as he could. This only made the soldier yelp, and suddenly, Arthur felt something hard hit the back of his head. Disoriented, the boy fell to his knees, and saw dark spots cloud his vision.

“The little /bitch/ ! Yer gonna see what it is to be such a disobedient little fuck !”

Arthur had no time to recover as the man pushed him to the ground, pulling his pants away along with his underwear, and suddenly gasped, stopping as he noticed that… There wasn’t only what he thought would be there. The kid possessed both part—disgusted, the man hit him again, and stood up. Arthur couldn’t help himself, and shook, scrambling away as soon as his mind worked, and clung to the wall, pulling his pants as high as he could. They were torn. Swallowing, Arthur looked back, and was now met with a sword. The shiny tip of it was slowly coming closer, and the boy felt his knees buckle. It would be the end ? His hand searched for the wall, and surprised, he noticed his fingers clung to a perpendicular part. The window ! They had left it open to let the strong scent of cleaning mixtures to leave the walls of the small home ! It was his only chance. Not caring for his dignity—there was little else in his mind but /survival/—, Arthur swung himself out the window at the same time he heard a loud clang.

There was no time to turn back, hence, he didn’t, and ran as fast as he could. The ground was covered in small pebbles. His feet hurt after less than five meters, but Arthur couldn’t care. Below the hill, there was an immense wheat field. His instincts told him he would be harder to see there. The men followed, and hollered at him, their armours slowing them down enough for Arthur to be able to get to the field. There started a game of cat and moused. After a moment, the sky darkened. A storm was coming, and when the drizzle transformed to an hours-long downpour, with Arthur running in the mud, chilled to the bone, more scared than he ever had, dirtier than he’d ever witness anyone be, they gave up. There were no shouts. Just the sound of the rain and thunder. Unable to trust such a convenient truce, Arthur ran again, reaching the other side of the wheat field, teeth clattering as he saw a farmer sitting under a porch, a lantern next to him. The house was far; the ever-falling rain kept him from seeing anything of the man’s face. A dog barked somewhere. Cows. Perhaps sheeps. Drained, Arthur fell to his knees, his lungs raw and unsure if he would be able to take a step more. His feets were burning, and stinging as mud touched the many wounds he’d made on them. It was probably over now; he had fought. There was no way to win. Falling face first in the mud, Arthur closed his eyes, and prayed to whatever Divines would want to hear him for the Otherworld to be better, or for anyone to come and save him…

 

**Author's Note:**

> aaaaand that's it for now. hopefully, this will be interesting enough ! i'll try to post the next part soon u _u


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